


Within These Walls

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Escapism, F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Star-crossed, War AU, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: As the ravages of war threaten to drag them apart, Hermione and Draco face the odds to find comfort with one another, with the hopes that they might one day create a different sort of future together. War AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DramioneFanfictionForum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneFanfictionForum/pseuds/DramioneFanfictionForum) in the [2019SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2019SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but are property of JKR And Warner Bros and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> The prompt for my story was, "Because we're able to be just you and me within these walls..." - Rewrite the Stars, by Zac Efron and Zendaya.
> 
> I would like to thank my alpha and my beta, Kyonomiko and I was BOTWP for their work.

* * *

Her wand was brandished between white knuckles, and for the most fleeting of instants, Hermione Granger wondered if a day would come where this _wouldn't_ be her life anymore.

Diving behind an overturned table, she narrowly avoided a flash of violet light as it shot past her head. She found Harry's eyes across the room amidst a mess of people and spellfire, and with a quick nod, she rose and fired, creating the diversion her friend so greatly needed.

Another day – another ambush. Still no closer to finding the last Horcrux.

They'd all been so certain, during the Battle of Hogwarts, that Nagini was the last. But after three years of living on the run, facing unimaginable losses, and fighting for their existence and something far greater, Hermione longed for any lingering semblance of that certainty.

This outpost was likely another dead end – but they were used to it by now.

Whirling on the spot at a noise behind her, Hermione shot a stunner and ducked to avoid the backlash. At the telltale swish of long robes, she fired again, and again; a smile curled her lips at the resulting thud.

Looking across to see where Harry had gone, she found herself in the line of fire of a Death Eater whose mask she knew well after repeated altercations, and her eyes narrowed.

"It's the pretty Mudblood, here again." Yaxley, cackling. She was surprised the idiotic – and increasingly insane – bastard hadn't been put down by his own master yet.

Dodging the first of the string of deadly curses she knew to expect, she felt a shimmer of magic graze her skin but her expression remained blank as she deflected spell after spell, firing her own in return.

Hermione scowled and cursed, moving to make chase when Yaxley flitted out of her line of sight, but she knew better than to act rash.

The charmed galleon in the rear pocket of her jeans warmed and she slipped the coin into her free hand, chancing a look down as she ducked for cover once more.

_NOTHING. MOVING OUT.  
_ _HP_

Gritting her teeth on the taste of failure, bitter as ever, she slipped out the back, leaving the outpost in a smouldering heap of rubble.

* * *

Dragging a frustrated hand through already disheveled hair, Harry stabbed his wand into a well-worn and threadbare map of London. The spot he touched incinerated to ash.

"We knew today's raid would lead nowhere," Hermione reminded him, even as she felt the tedium of their futile efforts seep into her own heart.

"Right," Harry bit out. "And so will tomorrow's – and the day after."

Hermione knew better than to offer any empty promises. They'd learned years ago it did more harm than good. They'd learned a lot of hard lessons – like the best places to bury friends when they were always on the move.

That lesson had been learned over again ever since the day they lost Ron.

The telltale warming of her Protean-charmed galleon went off in her pocket once more and she inspected the message beneath the table while Harry toiled over the ragged map, with an impassioned, "We _know_ it has to be in London!"

_HALF AN HOUR_

?

Expression blank, Hermione tucked the coin away, turning to face Harry with her chin up. "I request permission to make a supply run. The food situation is dire again."

Harry waved a distracted hand, with a muttered, "Granted. Be safe."

"Always." She slipped through the back of the tent.

* * *

She felt the sting of dozens of her own wards and enchantments cross her skin as she Apparated into a small flat on the outskirts of Muggle London, and Hermione allowed a hint of a smile to curl across her lips.

It had been too long, and the days too painful.

He was already there, wearing thin the small rug at the hearth – a breathtaking smile cracked his face when she arrived.

And she allowed some of the weight to leave her shoulders as she sagged into his embrace, with a deep inhale of the rugged scent of the person who meant more to her than this world.

"Draco."

Grey eyes searched hers as his hands swept to her shoulders. "Hermione. You're safe?"

She nodded, lips finding his, and her fingers tugged at the long strands of blond hair at the nape of his neck. "Just fine."

"When I saw you duelling Yaxley…" he murmured into her hair as he drew back.

"I know." Hermione shifted, smiling as she took in his face. "I felt your shielding spell."

Clicking his tongue, he shook his head slowly. "I hate how frequent these raids are becoming."

"You know I do too," Hermione said with a sigh. "But until we find that last Horcrux, there really are no other options."

Carding a hand through his hair, a knit lifted into his brow. "I know. I've brought your supplies, and some money. I just wish there was more I could do."

"Draco," she whispered, tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones with her fingertips, "you risk your life every time we meet."

He didn't respond, his expression hard and jaw clenched.

"And unless you know what – and _where_ – the last Horcrux is, there's nothing else you can do besides everything you're already doing to help. Supplies, information. Don't discount that."

With a bone-weary facsimile of a smile, he nodded, dragging the hair tie from her bun and letting her curls tumble loose. "I'm just glad you're safe. And here with me."

Coiling her arms around his waist, Hermione rested her face on his chest and basked in the gentle rhythm of his heart.

The heart that had stolen her own, years ago, back when they were still teenagers at Hogwarts, unaware of everything that would be coming their way in subsequent years. And there had been no other path for her.

For as challenging as everything was, and as painful as it was to live such a meagre, war-torn existence – within this small Muggle flat, when Draco stood at her side, was some semblance of a home.

Pulling back, Hermione slipped the trail of buttons on his shirt, and his gaze heated as his lips curled with a smirk. Draco tugged her jumper over her head, and dragged his hands along her sides as his lips found hers.

"I wish you'd eat more," he grumbled against her mouth, fingers tracing her prominent ribs. "I give you plenty of food."

"And you know I can't eat it all myself," she muttered, rolling her eyes at his favourite jab. "And if you gave me more –"

"People would ask questions," Draco returned, shaking his head. "I know."

"Speaking of." Her hands fell to his belt buckle, making quick work of his trousers. "People have been asking a lot about my source lately. Whether it's trustworthy."

Draco scoffed, pushing her jeans down her narrow hips. "What do you think?" Snorting, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her knickers. "Like I've provided you any faulty leads?"

"_I_ know," she groaned, grasping his hard cock through his shorts as her lips found his again.

"Hermione." He drew away, eyes meeting hers. "We aren't talking about this – not now. Not here. Okay?"

And despite the unease in her heart, she nodded. Within this small flat was the only place she could truly be herself – and she knew it was the last place where Draco still felt human.

Slinging her slight frame over his shoulder, Draco carted her into the bedroom, her bright laughter surrounding them as he made quick work of their remaining clothing.

He kissed her, his tongue finding hers, as he eased himself inside her; Hermione's fingers dug into his hair as her head fell back into the pillow and she allowed herself to simply feel.

* * *

Trailing his fingers down the bare skin of her spine, Draco propped himself up on one elbow to face her. Hermione smiled, basking in the time spent with him, despite that she knew it to be finite.

He was a far cry from the spoiled, impetuous troublemaker he'd been as a child.

Gazing around the small flat, she took in the decor they'd accumulated over the years in an effort at normalcy.

There was the collection of acrylic landscapes she'd rescued from an abandoned storage locker on a supply run. Draco had shown up with a pail of paint one day, and they'd spent an afternoon painting the walls by hand – and had ended up covered in the process. Standing guard in one corner was the ridiculously oversized giraffe Draco had gifted her after they'd risked everything to visit a Muggle carnival on a warm summer night.

All held memories, carrying their own weighty significance of the life they could have had – had things worked out differently.

Sometimes Hermione wondered how their lives might look if the war had ended that day at the Battle of Hogwarts. And she knew Draco felt the same, even though they rarely indulged in 'what ifs'.

"Knut for your thoughts," he murmured, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Just thinking," Hermione replied, turning back to face him. "About things."

His eyes narrowed. "Things. Like the future."

"Yes." Releasing a quiet sigh, she offered an apologetic smile. "Like a day that may come to pass when you don't need to hide anymore."

"It may," he allowed. "But you and I both know you need me inside for as long as possible."

"Beneficial, to be sure." She fidgeted with the fraying corner of the quilt. "But not if it puts your life at risk. You do so much for our side, and you're seen like the rest of them."

"It's necessary." His lips dropped into a frown; Hermione knew he didn't care to discuss logistics between them, but still she longed for the day when he didn't need to bow down to such a cruel and malicious master. "I've spent years gaining his trust and getting inside his circle – and if that means I can keep you as safe as possible, that's where I'll stay."

"I know." She smiled, a tilt to her head. "And I love you for it all the more."

He flashed a cocky grin. "I know you do – but I promise you, if the day comes when I can leave there, I will."

"_When_," she corrected absently. "The contingencies are already in place to get your mother to safety."

"_That_ is a matter to be discussed later." His tone sharpened as he withdrew his arm, checking the time. "I already miss you – but I need to leave soon."

Peering at his watch, her eyes widened. "I've got twenty minutes before Harry will start to worry."

Draco's grey eyes flashed with heat as his hand slipped beneath the covers. "_That_ sounds like a challenge."

* * *

Tempers were always higher around the camp when they'd faced a string of bad luck. It had been one of those weeks, and Hermione approached Harry and the other rebellion leaders with caution, having stowed her galleon safely away. Despite that he knew she also utilized her coin to receive information from an outside source, Draco's messages were for her eyes only.

"I've heard from my contact," she announced, standing straight. "We can expect an ambush on the Berkshire safehouse, Friday morning."

"Friday," Harry scoffed, frowning. "How certain is your contact?"

Neville stepped forward. "Her contact hasn't yet led us astray."

"He's a traitor," Harry threw back. "There's nothing to say he won't betray us, too. If it's been brought to light that this _contact_ has been supplying us with information –"

"I can assure you, my contact has not been compromised." Emerald eyes narrowed as they met hers but she stood firm, understanding his reticence. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been deceived with false information – but ever since Draco had started informing under the guise of an anonymous informant, that hadn't been the case.

At first, Harry had questioned the legitimacy – and the connection – of her source, but once the information began to prove helpful, he had offered begrudging acceptance.

"Fine," Harry huffed. "Berkshire. We'll prepare a contingent."

With a sharp nod, Hermione excused herself. She had no desire to strategize with the others, not as her heart grew increasingly heavy.

It was as if everything was building and something was about to give – she could feel it as a thick tension in her bones. She only hoped the shift of power would go in their favour for once.

And all she could do, for the time being, was to make sure they were as prepared as possible to face it.

* * *

"Oh, Draco, there you are."

Schooling a scowl into stoicism, Draco turned to face his master, ensuring his Occlumency walls were solid.

"Yes, my lord?" He bowed his head, eyes on the floor.

"Draco, Draco." Voldemort gave a high-pitched laugh, and Draco felt a shiver chase down his spine. He'd learned many times over that _mirthful_ was not his favourite of Voldemort's moods. "There is something we need to discuss."

"Yes?" he asked, forcing himself to remain present. He was meant to be arranging an ambush on a rebellion safe house, and he could only hope that Hermione had prepared an adequate defense.

"It has come to my attention that one of my most faithful –" His master paused for dramatic effect, a wicked smile curving his unattractive features. "Has been a _rat_."

Draco's gaze rose as he expended all his efforts into conveying the proper amount of interest. "Is that so?"

"I couldn't believe it either." Voldemort laughed again, a mocking facsimile of joy. "But yet, the truth is evident. Time and again, our attacks have been thwarted. And of course, as you know, only my most trusted, my most beloved inner circle know of my plans ahead of time."

"Of course, my lord," Draco returned, dropping his head back down into a bow. "I consider myself fortunate to be among them."

Voldemort clapped his hands together. "Exactly! Draco, you and I will have fun with this. I need _you_ to find out who has been passing along information – and together we shall deliver justice. What do you say?"

Allowing a cruel sneer to emerge, Draco forced a laugh. "My lord, you honour me. It would be my _pleasure_."

Voldemort's red eyes shone with delight and Draco felt a churning of bile in the pit of his stomach.

"Shall I continue preparing for the raid on the Berkshire house, my lord? It's nearly time," he questioned, his heart rampant with the need to get some air.

"Don't bother." With a dismissive wave into the air, Voldemort turned away. "Whoever has been leaking our plans will have already warned the rebellion. Let's keep them guessing for once, hmm?"

Draco swallowed, his eyes narrowing at Voldemort's retreating back. "Of course, my lord. Right away."

* * *

Scowling at the floor, Hermione paced the Berkshire house, hours after the raid was meant to have hit. They hadn't heard back from the main camp, and Harry was rabid with tension.

"What happened to this bloody informant being accountable?" he growled, glaring at his ubiquitous old map of London.

"This is the first time the information I've been provided was false." She bit the words through a clenched jaw, even as she saw Luna drift to Harry's side. Good – maybe the blonde could calm him down.

Hermione suspected Harry often turned to Luna for physical comfort – but he had no room left in his heart for another. Ever since the day they'd lost Ginny, Harry hadn't been the same. More aggressive, quicker to anger, and hellbent on revenge. It broke Hermione's heart – but the long years of war had changed them all, and she knew she was no better for it either.

Keeping her hands clasped together prevented her from fingering the galleon in her pocket, even as her heart raced at the thought that it had been hours since she'd sent Draco a message, and had yet to hear back.

It was unlike him to provide false information, and his subsequent silence had escalated the worry in her heart.

"I'll be in the other room," Hermione said, dipping her chin into a nod as she excused herself from the meeting.

While she warred with herself about sending another charmed message, the coin in her pocket warmed and she nearly jumped in her haste to read it. No one was around, and she released a long breath of relief as she slipped the coin into her hand.

_NO RAID  
_ _MEET?_

Her eyes pressed shut as she tapped the coin in response.

_YES_

The message faded from her coin, signifying its transmission, and she felt some of the panic in her heart settle – but she couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

It was a setback, but she could convince Harry that her source was still reliable. Draco had always been openly transparent of the fact that he wanted her to know everything he knew, for any slight edge it could give them.

The rest of the contingent was preparing to leave the safehouse when Hermione returned to the strategy room. Harry fired her a gruff look but didn't say anything.

"I'll be late returning to camp – figured I'd look around here for anything."

Harry waved her off, his expression softening. "This could all still be a trap – be careful."

It was convenient that one of her primary tasks for the rebellion was the location of goods and materials they could use. Her disappearances were rarely questioned.

"I will," she whispered, clapping a hand to Harry's back. "Be careful as well – we'll get them next time, yeah?"

"Yeah." He flashed her a roguish grin that didn't reach his eyes, and before they cleared out, she was gone.

* * *

His heart hammered as years of sacrifice, torture, and struggle threatened to unravel before his very eyes. He was already half a glass of Firewhisky in when Hermione arrived in the small flat that had become their escape and their home.

Settling into the second-hand chair at the small kitchen table beside him, her hand dropped to rest on his arm. "Everything okay?"

Barking out a bitter laugh, Draco took a long swig. "Not exactly."

"I'm guessing this has something to do with why the raid didn't go ahead?" she asked, and her chocolate eyes were soft when he looked over. Draco took her fingers in his, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

"He knows you have an informant in the inner circle," he announced without preamble. There were no secrets between them, and no dancing around the truth – he owed her more than that. "So he called off the raid, because he suspected you'd already been forewarned."

"Draco." The word was a whispered breath, her eyes wide, lips parted. "So what does this mean?"

Swigging the last of his drink, Draco set the empty glass aside. It wasn't the time to lose his head to excess. "He's tasked me with finding his leak." The words sounded as bitter as they tasted on his tongue.

As she frowned, she twisted her hand to entwine their fingers. "So you'll lay a false trail? Or – "

"I'll have to." Draco traced an absent pattern on the worn surface of the table. "I'll need to subject someone else – I can't risk it, Hermione."

By the look of pure devastation on her face, she'd already guessed at the punishment that would be doled out for someone who dared give up Voldemort's personal plans. And that it would be Draco responsible for the judgement.

"You can't," she whispered, her eyes glossy.

"What I can't accept is the alternative," he ground through his teeth. "It's war. I'll do what I have to – it's _always_ been that way."

She fell silent, her hand giving his a gentle squeeze. "What will you do?"

"I'll give him someone's name." Making an effort to keep his head level and clinical usually helped. "I'll need to get my mother out of the Manor beforehand in case things go south. And Hermione, once I condemn someone else for this – I can't pass you any more information."

"Because he'll know you lied," she surmised, a quiet despair in her tone.

"Exactly." Draco frowned, the information churning through his mind. She was the warrior, and he the strategist. It was how things had fallen between them through the years. "If I take too long, he'll ask questions. I can't let the spotlight fall on me."

Hermione shook her head, moisture breaking from her eyes. "You can't – we need you. You'll have to…" she swallowed, before continuing. "You'll have to let someone else take the fall."

His voice threatened to break at the thought of it. "But who?"

How could he play God – how could he condemn someone else to death?

Over the years, Draco had come up with creative ways and even invented spells to make it appear as if his targets were dead. But yet, despite his years as a Death Eater, and the many despicable deeds he'd been forced into in order to maintain his cover and gain Voldemort's trust… Draco had never lifted his wand in murder.

He never could, when it came to anyone in the Order – when he _needed_ them to win this war.

She didn't answer – and he couldn't expect her to. This was his burden to bear.

"But I can't yet," he went on, shaking his head. "Not until I have everything I need from him. We _need_ information on that last Horcrux – and I can't jeopardize my position until we have it."

"Draco…" Her voice trailed off, and he clenched his jaw, knowing what she would say. They hadn't found anything yet in so long.

"There has to be something." A longing to reach for the Firewhisky chased through his veins, as if he were any other carefree young man. But he couldn't indulge those whims anymore. "Something I've _missed_ or –"

He met Hermione's gaze, hating to see the sympathy in her stare – something akin to pity. "Draco, not now."

Forcing a swallow, he nodded, using the light in her eyes to ground him. He breathed, "Right."

Tugging their joined hands, Hermione pulled him to the couch, where he tucked her small frame into his side. Breathing deeply of the scent of her, he was jarred to realize she smelled of dust and blood.

"You need a shower," he muttered, chuckling at her scowl.

"I've been busy preparing to thwart a raid, excuse you," she snipped, and Draco laughed, suffused with genuine amusement that he hadn't felt since they'd last been together. Her fingers traced the muscles of his abdomen. "You'll have to shower with me before we leave."

Their flat had all the functional amenities – the expenses paid in Muggle notes through a fake identity – and Draco was careful to keep food in the fridge should she ever find herself in need, but he knew she rarely came by unless they were together, for fear of unwanted questions.

He grazed his teeth along the shell of her ear. "Gladly."

With a sigh, she sunk deeper into his hold. "What do you think of all this, Draco? Truly. What do you want, when this is all over?"

"You," he replied. "I want the life we could have had." A thick lump settled somewhere between his chest and his throat. "I want to change our story."

Her eyes met his. "I want that, too. We'll be through with all of this, and… we can write a different ending."

Silence hung for a long moment as her words danced around his brain. "My story will always be that of the villain – no matter how this all falls." He pursed his lips, frowning. "What if I can never escape that role?"

"You will," she whispered, a slight waver in her voice. "I have to believe you will. Because you aren't, Draco – you never truly were. And you can get out because it's in your heart. This – despite everything else, this was meant to happen."

"I have a hard time believing _this_ was the plan for your life." He waved an absent hand at the small, run-down flat – the only place he could remember feeling happy in countless years. "Mine, maybe. I don't know that I ever had a chance to see it all clearly until it was too late."

"You were in my path for a reason," she mused. "I believe in that. You've saved my life more times than I even know, Draco – surely that has to count for something? Maybe the defining role in your story is one you've yet to play – maybe through these trials you face, you're meant to save us all."

He could never deserve her unwavering support. As he pressed a kiss into her curls, his eyes stung with moisture. "I'll have to borrow your belief, for now."

Her voice was soft as she spoke into his chest. "Hopefully I have enough left for the both of us."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione, can I talk to you about something?" Harry's expression was uncomfortable, his stance tense as he stood in the doorway of the room where she was studying.

Hesitant, she nodded, her frown deepening as Harry clicked the door shut and began casting privacy wards. Hermione knew as well as anyone that someone was always listening when they all crammed into safehouses, but something in his face left her uneasy as he settled into the chair across from her.

"What is it?" she asked, marking her page and closing the book on historically significant magical relics.

Harry stared at the table for a long moment before his green eyes snapped up to meet hers. "I know what you're going to say – but something isn't sitting well with me over that false lead last week."

"Harry, I –" At his raised hand, she fell silent.

"This isn't an accusation." Frowning, he leaned back in his seat. "You said your contact learned that You-Know-Who himself had called off the attack. How would a lower level operative know where an order had originated? Only his most trusted are privy to the inner workings of his circle."

A breath caught, tight, in her chest. "I don't know where he gets his information. For all I know he has a spy in the inner circle. Maybe there are Death Eaters who aren't loyal after all."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, tapped an anxious rhythm on the surface of the table, then scrunched his face up. "I just want to be sure you aren't in over your head with this one. Because it almost sounds like your contact is actually a Death Eater."

Her voice fell to a whisper. "He offered proof he was a spy, when I first started receiving information. And he's regularly put his life on the line to feed us leads."

Harry pressed his lips together for a long moment; Hermione could see the cogs churning in his mind and frowned.

"But you've never met him?"

"No." Heart racing somewhere between her chest and her throat, the air between them was tense. "But he's never led us astray before last week. And I told you – the plan was changed last minute."

Harry folded his arms. "I think it's a trap." At Hermione's reaction he raised a hand again, as if placating. "For all we know, we're playing right into some drawn out, convoluted game."

"We can trust him," she ground out, her mind firing rapidly in an effort to persuade her critical, paranoid friend.

But Harry still shook his head. "I want to arrange a meeting."

Planting her hands to the surface of the table, she stared at him, feeling at a loss. "I have no way of making that happen. I need you to believe me, Harry – this is the least of our worries right now."

"How!" he exclaimed, leaning forward. "How are you _so_ sure, when you're usually the one who's so hesitant to trust? When we've lost _friends_ to bad information." Harry grit his teeth, his eyes flashing. Bile churned in the pit of her stomach, and Hermione could sense the ghost of Ron hanging between them. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing!" Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowing in response to the accusation in his tone. "All I know is that his information has _never_ been faulty before this!"

They glared at one another; Hermione's chest heaved with rapid breaths.

"Like I said," Harry said, his casual tone breaking the silence, "I'd like to arrange something. I need to test this contact myself – we don't know enough about his source of information."

"I can't do that." Her jaw was painfully tight. "I can't risk your safety like that."

_Or Draco's_.

With a huff of a breath, Harry rose to his feet. "Then you leave me no choice but to refuse any future leads your informant reports. I'll expect you to sever your connection. I'm sorry Hermione, and I know some of it's been helpful – but if this contact's loyalties have shifted we can't risk giving them the upper hand."

"Harry, you're being unreasonable!" Hermione exclaimed as he reached for the door handle. As he turned on the spot, his expression was hard.

"And you're keeping something from me. After all this time, Hermione, this is the _last_ thing I would have expected from you." Disappointment weighing on his face, Harry left the room.

* * *

_INCOMING 1500 HOURS  
_ _CHESHIRE HOUSE_

Draco scowled at his coin, resisting the urge to fire the bloody thing into the bin.

_DO YOU COPY_

Nothing.

Clenching his hands into fists, Draco found himself pacing his private study. He'd been trying to reach Hermione for two hours. The messages were transmitting, as far as he could tell – he was sure the charm was still functional, but she'd yet to confirm receipt.

And if the rebellion wasn't prepared for this one, it wouldn't be good. Casualties would almost be guaranteed. They usually only kept a skeleton crew in the outlying safehouses, which was why Voldemort liked to target them.

_CONFIRM_

After another painstaking ten minutes passed without anything by way of a response, Draco growled, ready to Apparate into their fucking camp himself.

_THIS WILL BE SERIOUS  
_ _DEFEND OR VACATE_

He fumbled the coin when at last, its golden surface warmed beneath his touch.

Heart dropping into his stomach, the blood drained from his face when Draco read the response.

_WHO ARE YOU_

Vaguely, he could hear the roaring of his own pulse in his ears as his knuckles whitened around the coin. He didn't dare respond, even as he longed to know what was going on. Hermione would never ask that question – which meant she wasn't in possession of her own coin.

Several minutes later, another transmission arrived.

_YOUR INFORMATION IS  
_ _NO LONGER NEEDED_

Draco frowned at the galleon as his mind raced, searching in vain for a possible explanation. Finally his desire to protect Hermione won out.

_PROTECT CHESHIRE_  
_SAFEHOUSE  
_ _LISTEN TO ME_

Pacing the room, he couldn't keep his heart from racing, his brain spinning through any number of occurrences in which Hermione was unable to access her coin. He removed his black robes and shoved into his cloak, ready to Apparate wherever he needed to protect her, his cover be damned.

Finally the response came back.

_LISTEN TO ME  
_ _RAT_

Draco scowled, taking up residence in his armchair once more as he waited.

_YOUR INFORMATION  
_ _IS COMPROMISED_

Fuming, he crushed the coin between his palms. He didn't dare say Hermione's name when he didn't know with whom he was conversing, or else he would demand to speak with her.

For all he knew her coin had fallen into the hands of a Death Eater, and it was a trap.

He kept silent, waiting to feel the next message warm his skin. He wished he could see her, and know she was safe; his heart ached in his chest.

_MEET ME_

With measured breaths, Draco ran through the myriad of things that could possibly go wrong if he affirmed. Clearly, something had happened of which he wasn't yet aware, and Hermione's life could depend on the actions he took.

The raid was set to occur in two hours, and he _couldn't _give up his cover until his mother was safe, and until he'd learned about the last Horcrux. But if Hermione was in danger...

Glaring at the coin, he tapped a message.

_WHO ARE YOU_

His breath was short, as if he'd held it while he waited on a response.

_MY NAME IS  
_ _HARRY POTTER_

Fucking Potter. Unless this was all some convoluted trick to attempt to draw him out as the leak. There was no way this could go well, if Potter was demanding proof as to the validity of his information. It had to be related to the last-minute change in plans the week before.

He hadn't seen Hermione since that day, and something must have changed during that time. But she had mentioned the Order had been questioning the validity of his intel.

_WHERE IS MY  
_ _USUAL CONTACT_

Draco watched as the lines of text on the coin faded into tarnished gold once more, every nerve tingling with anticipation.

_BUSY  
_ _MEET ME_

Releasing a string of curses, Draco tapped a series of messages into his coin, fury teasing at the edges of his mind and his vision blurring.

_I CAN'T_

_CHESHIRE HOUSE  
_ _1500 HOURS_

_YOU WILL LOSE  
_ _FIGHTERS POTTER_

_GIVE GRANGER  
_ _HER FUCKING COIN_

He glared at the last message as it dissipated; within an instant he found himself wishing he could retract the message but it was already gone. While Potter was obviously on her side, he was a wild card, and Draco couldn't risk anything until he was ready to properly defect.

None of this fit into his careful plan.

_UNTIL WE CAN MEET  
_ _I DON'T TRUST YOU_

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Draco rose to pace his study again. His skin felt hot and he fumed into the wall across the office as the possible implications settled into his brain.

He couldn't give up his identity to Potter yet. He couldn't do _anything _that would put Hermione at risk, and knowledge of his connection to her could very well do that.

Tapping a final message into the coin, he shoved it deep into his pocket.

_YOUR FUCKING LOSS_

* * *

Draco's heart plummeted in his chest when he broke through the wards at the Cheshire safe house to see a small contingent of startled rebels gaping at him, frantically reaching for their wands.

Cussing a string of vulgarities under his breath, Draco blasted a flash of startling light from his wand to keep them from noting the silver features on his mask, rendering himself momentarily blind as well.

"Get out!" he bellowed, and for a terrible, anxious moment, he waited while the situation sunk in. And there was a flurry of Apparition as the rest of the ambush came through the wards he'd ruined.

Moments later, the Death Eaters behind him were cussing as they discovered nothing but an empty house. Draco's heart clenched uneasily in his chest.

* * *

Slamming back a finger of whisky once he was back in his study, Draco steadied his wand hand long enough to tap a message into his coin.

_WARNED YOU_

The response came through a few minutes later.

_IT'S ME_

Heart stuttering in his chest, he fumbled the crystal tumbler to his desk, clutching the coin into his hand again.

_WHAT HAPPENED_

Scowled at the galleon, his heart raced while he waited. Draco despised being unaware of his current situation, a feeling borne of countless near misses.

_HALF AN HOUR?_

And he huffed a breath of relief, slipping his cloak on once more as he prepared to Disapparate, sending one last message.

_LEAVING NOW_

* * *

Tears broke from her eyes the instant Hermione arrived in the flat, moments before Draco Apparated in as well. She leapt for him, her arms coiling around his midsection as she stifled a choked sob from within her throat.

"Hermione," he breathed into her hair, "what the fuck happened?"

"Harry took my coin." She swiped tears from beneath her eyes, anger tinging her tone. "Ever since that lead proved faulty he said he didn't trust your information – and he thinks you're a Death Eater and this is all a trap. When I tried to pass him your warning today he took my coin."

Grey eyes flashing, Draco's jaw clenched. "I hope he feels like an imbecile after nearly condemning those people in the safehouse to their deaths."

Her voice fell to a whisper. "He does."

Carding a hand through disheveled blond locks, he collapsed into the couch, shaking his head. "Can we not trust Potter to do what's best for the rebellion anymore?"

Taking up the seat beside him, Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. "I thought we could."

His expression fell to desperation and he swallowed. "I'm not ready to get out yet, Hermione. I need the information about the Horcrux, or Potter can _never_ take him out. I need to get my mother to safety, and he's going to expect information on the leak soon and –"

Releasing a soft exhale, Hermione reached into the inner pocket of her cloak, pressing a small box into his hands. "It's an untraceable Portkey. I secured it from Kingsley, and he's vowed to secrecy. It will transport your mother to the safehouse I keep."

Shining grey eyes lifted to meet hers and his throat bobbed. "It's safe?"

"I'm the only secret keeper," she whispered, tracing the lines of his jaw with her fingers; his eyes fluttered shut. "And I've warded it myself."

Draco nodded as he looked at her again, tucking the small box into his pocket. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"It'll activate on touch," she added, loosening the silk knot of his tie. "For whenever she needs it."

He looked more frazzled than she had seen him in a long time, and Hermione knew the day had taken as much of a toll on him as it had on her. But his lips tugged into a fatigued smile as he stared at her. "I was so worried – when I realized it wasn't you on the other side of that coin."

"I'm furious." With a huff, she sunk into the couch beside him. "That Harry didn't trust my judgement – and that he didn't act on your tip."

His jaw was hard, gaze unseeing as he stared at the coffee table. "All this does is increase the urgency of what we're trying to do here. If Potter doesn't trust my information anymore I need to act faster. I can't leave you blind to his plans."

Her eyes slid to the side to meet his. "I know you won't agree – but maybe Harry needs to know."

"No." He shook his head, once, briskly. "No, Hermione. He proved today how volatile he is as a leader. This _needs_ to work. This game is complex, and patient, and subtle. And as soon as I find something on the Horcrux –"

"Which will be?" Worrying her bottom lip, she fixed him with an apologetic look. "Draco, you and I both know the likelihood that you'll have to get out before we learn anything about it is high. As soon as you give him the name of his leak – once your mother leaves the Manor – we'll all be at risk."

"I know." His tone was gruff. "But there has to be something I'm missing. I've been working on the wards to his private study – not even the inner circle is allowed. There might be something in there, and if I can just get through –"

"Absolutely not," Hermione hissed. "You are _not_ putting yourself into that level of risk."

"I'm not leaving you undefended."

"Draco –"

"_Hermione _–"

The stress of the day settled into her heart and stung with moisture at her eyes, and she found herself choking on a sob as she stared at him. She whispered, "Please."

His expression faltered and broke, softening as a furrow lifted into his brow. "Hermione, I love you so much. I can't let anything happen to you."

Feeling her breathing escalate, she looked away. "I love you more than I ever thought I could, and the thought of losing you is unfathomable. Please, Draco, get out before it's too late."

Grey eyes met hers as his fingers slipped beneath her chin. "This isn't the place. Or the time." She released a harsh breath, nodding as her face sunk into the warmth of his palm. Holding his gaze, she took another sharp inhale. "Do you remember sixth year?"

"Yes," she stuttered, making an effort at evening her breathing, releasing a soft laugh. "Bloody Slughorn and that blasted project."

Draco chuckled, taking her hand in his; his thumb was reassuring as it grazed the back of her hand. "We were both so bent on sabotaging the other."

"It was your fault we ended up in detention for a month," she whispered, dropping her face to his shoulder. "You knew the potion would blow up when you threw that scarab in it."

She could feel the lift to his shoulder as he shrugged. "At the time it seemed worth it, if it meant dragging you down with me." Releasing a sigh, he fell silent for a long moment. "Sometimes I wonder, if this all could have ended back then. If I'd gone to Dumbledore sooner."

"You know it wouldn't have," she reminded him. "He was already dying – the plan was already in place between your mother and Snape. We still needed to find the Horcruxes."

"Merlin." He dragged a hand down his face, his expression worn. "If we could have avoided all of this, Hermione. But he'd only told McGonagall I was going to defect, and then after she was gone, and you and Potter were on the run –"

"I know." Hermione burrowed deeper into his side, taking comfort in his strength.

Soft lips pressed into her curls. "I still have nightmares of that day – of realizing it was _you_ in the Manor."

"And like I told you," she reminded him, tapping on his chest, "when we found one another after the Battle of Hogwarts – there was nothing you could have done without blowing your cover. And if you had, where would we all be now? I reckon none of us would have made it this far."

Mouth twisted downwards, he remained silent. Hermione suspected it was something upon which they would always disagree. Draco would always punish himself for his inaction the day she had been tortured on the floor of his drawing room.

"Well," he finally said, the word bitter like a bad taste in his mouth. "That won't be a problem if a similar situation should ever arise." His voice dropped, the words teasing at the shell of her ear. "I would do anything to keep you safe."

Something about his words left her feeling uneasy.

* * *

"Mother."

Narcissa Malfoy lifted her chin, her blue eyes emotionless, her lips pursed. "Yes, Draco?"

Before entering her chambers, he'd warded the room with every possible spell he could think of. Even so, his voice was hushed as Draco approached, holding a small, narrow box in his hands. "I have something for you."

As he profferred the box, his mother took it, opening the lid with caution in her stare. "A fountain pen. How lovely, thank you, Draco."

He lifted a hand to halt the advance of her fingers, a slow shake to his head. "Don't touch it. Not yet."

The pieces fell into place with a tilt of his mother's head. She breathed, "It's a Portkey?"

It was a risk even speaking to his mother about this, but she needed to know. She needed to understand, in the event that her safety in the Manor was challenged, that she had a place to go. Slipping his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting, he nodded. "I need to be sure you will be safe. If things… go wrong."

Narcissa's eyes didn't quite lift to his, but he saw the tension settled in her shoulders. "You're getting us out of here."

"Yes." The word was a ghost of a whisper. "But I need you to wait – we can't arouse suspicion yet. I'm working on a plan, and I need you to remain complicit until the time comes." His hand closed around hers, securing the lid in place once more. "But if you feel threatened – if you need to get out – I need you to go. The Portkey leads to a safehouse, and a friend of mine will look after you."

His mother made no reaction but for a shuddering exhale, and her eyes were shining as they flickered to his own. "I knew," she breathed, her fingers coiling around his, "I knew this wasn't you. You've never been your father, despite his best efforts."

A trace of a smirk played at his lips, relief sweeping through him. "I have some business to tie up here. Something that might, with a _lot_ of luck, put an end to this all."

The tears broke, streaming silently down his mother's cheeks, and Draco's heart clenched uneasily at the sight of them. But she only nodded, her grip tightening around his hand. It shattered his heart, to see the shell of his mother the woman before him had become. But Narcissa was still strong, still willful enough to know her role in the situation, and he knew he could trust her.

"Wait," he said, meeting her blue stare, "for my signal. And we will get out."

A twitch to her lips released a grin of his own, but she only nodded, slipping the small box into a swath of her robes. "I'll be ready."

Clutching a hand to his mother's shoulder, allowing his fingers to curl and tighten for a brief moment, Draco swept from the room.

* * *

Peering over Harry's shoulder, Hermione released a sigh. Another raid with no results. Several of their number had been injured in the ambush, but thankfully no fatalities. However, the incident had left Harry on edge as he glared into his map.

"Here's a thought," Hermione mused. "But what if the artefact we're looking for isn't magical at all? Three of the Horcruxes were from the Hogwarts founders, the ring, the locket, the snake… what if the last one is Muggle and we're looking in the wrong places entirely?"

Harry's eyes tightened. "Muggle. But why?"

"Well, think about it." Hermione folded her arms, propping her hip against the table. "He _hated_ his Muggle father and the fact that his blood is impure as a result. All of his Horcruxes so far have been important _magical_, historical items. Wouldn't it be a slap in the face of Muggle culture if You-Know-Who imprisoned a shard of his soul in an important Muggle artefact?"

With a shrug, her voice softened. "It was only a thought."

"Something rare," Harry returned, swallowing. "Something valued."

"But, it doesn't make sense." Shaking her head, Hermione began to pace. "Because anything like that would be locked tight in a museum somewhere."

Sharp emerald eyes found hers. "Not necessarily." Wringing his hands together, he leaned back against the wall. "But if would have to be something small enough to carry. And something important enough for him to even consider utilizing." His lips pursed. "Something _lost_, or unaccounted for."

"What's the most significant _lost_ artefact you can think of?" Hermione mused, allowing the conversation to carry despite the utter lack of evidence.

They both fell silent in thought, and she toed the ground with her worn trainer as she pondered the thought.

"I mean," Harry said with a chuckle, "there's the lost Crown Jewels of England."

"Of King John, do you mean?" Hermione's eyes snapped to his and she released a snicker. "The ones lost in 1216? I can't imagine even _he_ could have found them."

But Harry was gazing at her with something significant in his stare. "Regardless, you might be onto something here. Let's broaden our search criteria."

Nodding, Hermione jotted a note on a sheet of parchment, tucking the page into her bag before she retreated to the library of Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Soft lips pillowed hers as she sunk into his hold, and a quiet whimper escaped Hermione's mouth as Draco's hands swept her sides, lingering at the curves of her chest.

Drawing back with a soft bite to his lower lip, she caught the sparkle in his grey eyes. Smiling, Hermione entwined her fingers with his as she found his hand. "You're in a good mood."

"I suppose I am." Carding a hand through his hair, he sunk into the couch, pulling Hermione with him. "Though I've no clue why. My life is imploding all around me, I could quite literally be discovered and killed for treason at any moment…" Drifting off, he pressed his lips to hers once more. "But I'm here with you, and things feel good."

Something stirred in Hermione's heart at his words, and she brought the back of his hand to her mouth. "How did your mother take it?"

"Well." The tension in his shoulders had visibly sunk since arriving at the flat, and his head rolled along the back of the couch to face her. "She's prepared to leave if trouble arises, and I think she's more relieved than she let on."

With a breathed, "Good," Hermione turned to face him, folding her legs beneath her. "Should we discuss the plan moving forward?"

Ordinarily they both avoided discussing strategy in the flat, but it felt as if so many things were coming to a head, and Hermione wanted to be certain they were on the same page.

As if in agreement, he nodded without hesitation. "I've been working on the wards on his private study, and they're complicated but I think I can break them. It's only a matter of keeping him distracted long enough to search, in the event the broken wards trigger something."

With a sharp shake of her head, Hermione said, "I think that's a bad idea. You're going to get caught and killed."

Draco released a long sigh. "I'm running out of time to identify the rat. If I don't come up with someone soon, he'll suspect me, and I can't let that happen. So I'm running out of time to break the wards, too."

"Hear me out." Hermione met his gaze, her eyes wide and hopeful. "We tell Harry you're my contact – I'll tell him everything, if it'll make him believe the truth. If we can formulate a plan to get a few of _us_ into the Manor, _I_ can break the wards, and you can tell You-Know-Who about the rat to keep him distracted. And if he _does_ notice the wards breaking, you won't be a suspect."

"No fucking way," Draco breathed. "It's suicide for you to enter the Manor."

"Not if _you_ plan it," she whispered, grazing her fingers along his chest. "You know when he's going to be there, and when everyone else is gone. You know the comings and going better than anyone because they're your wards on the Manor. You have enough sway to make things happen the way you need them to."

When he didn't immediately rebuke the idea, and Hermione could see the wheels churning in his brain, she went on. "Harry and I have been debated the idea that his last Horcrux might have been a _Muggle_ artefact."

"I've briefly considered the same," Draco said with a grimace, "but I can't imagine what he would have seen as important enough to carry a fragment of his soul."

Hermione admitted, "We didn't get far with that either. Do you imagine it's actually in his study, or just a hint about it?"

"Honestly?" Sweeping his hair back, he shook his head, gaze focused on the far wall. "I think he's paranoid enough that he might be keeping it close with you lot on the prowl so often. He thought the rest were safely hidden and they're all gone now."

Pressing his eyes shut hard, he turned back to her. "I'm going to regret this – but let me think about it. About your plan, with Potter. If you truly believe we can trust him, we can use the reveal of You-Know-Who's rat as a diversion. I'll give you everything I know about his wards, because Merlin knows you're the best I know at wards." His thumb absently grazed the back of her hand. "If I could just break into his mind without him noticing, I'd do it. But his Occlumency shields are impossible."

"Then you'll need to keep him distracted long enough for Harry and I to get to work."

Baleful grey eyes searched hers. His voice was soft. "Fuck. Set up the meeting. I'll come back here tomorrow and leave every bit of information I can possibly think of so you can get in and out safely."

A frisson of fear snaked down Hermione's spine as she nodded. The pieces were in motion for this one last stand, and it was time to step up the game.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't believe you." Harry blinked at her, his eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed.

With a knowing smile, Hermione glanced away. "I know – it sounds far fetched even to me. But it's all true."

"Since _sixth_?"

"Sixth," she echoed. "I don't even know exactly how it all happened anymore, but it did. And… that's who my contact is, and how I've been so sure about his information. But you have to believe me, Harry, I've only kept this from you to keep everyone safe."

His nose wrinkled as he stared at her. "But _Malfoy_, Hermione?"

An absent smile played about her lips as she nodded. "You don't know him, Harry. Not really."

Huffing an exaggerated breath, he swept a hand through his messy hair. Cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt – which Hermione knew to be a tell of his nerves – he cleared his throat. "Fine. I'll meet with him, if you truly believe the Horcrux might be actually at the Manor after all this time."

"I believe it might be there now," Hermione conceded, "even if it hasn't been all along. Draco said You-Know-Who's become increasingly paranoid."

Harry mouthed the word _Draco_ with teasing distaste on his face, as if mocking her usage of his given name. "I can't believe we're putting our hopes on the word of Malfoy – and I don't make any promises. But I'll meet with him."

"Only you," Hermione breathed. "I've been hesitant to even tell you, because if word escapes that Draco's been helping us we're all dead."

Nodding, Harry muttered a gruff, "Understood." Then he rose, clapping his hands together. "Let know know when and where."

Releasing a tight exhale, she watched him walk from the room, hoping against all odds they were doing the right thing.

* * *

Keeping a cautious eye on Harry, Hermione ventured into the flat she and Draco shared, her fingers sliding along the stack of information he'd promised to leave.

It felt strange, to have invited someone else into their own space. It felt like an intrusion of their life together – it felt wrong.

Harry gazed around the small sitting room and kitchen, his expression blank but eyes tight. "So this is… what – your love nest or –"

"It's our home."

Swallowing, she met his stare.

Huffing a breath, Harry rubbed his temple as he returned to the kitchen table, picking through the information Draco had left for them. A map of the Manor – complete with various routes labeled, rooms and corridors to avoid, and accessible Floo portals. A list of the wards he'd already discovered and studied on Voldemort's private study. Various other hand-written memos that could prove useful.

Harry shook his head, peering up at Hermione through his glasses. "He's serious about this."

A soft breath escaped Hermione's lungs that she'd been holding during Harry's perusal, and her words came out as a whisper. "I told you – he's been on our side all along."

Dropping his pack to the table, Harry carefully tucked the package of information inside. Hermione knew he scarcely went anywhere without his full arsenal on his back. It was one of the things she admired about him as a leader – his constant state of preparation for anything that might arise.

"Draco should be along any minute," Hermione mused, gazing at the single photograph of the two of them in the flat, a sad smile gracing her features as she watched the framed version of Draco plant a kiss on her cheek. "He'll explain everything to you then."

"Merlin, this had better not be a mistake." Muttering to himself, Harry sunk into the couch.

A shudder ran across Hermione's shoulders as she checked her watch – he was running late. Fingering her coin, she was dismayed to see it blank. Draco was nothing if not punctual, and his tardiness left her uneasy.

"Sometimes things come up and he can't always get away," she breathed, more to herself than anything.

Harry fixed her with a hard stare. "It doesn't surprise me that Malfoy is late, he always –"

"Don't," Hermione hissed, freezing as an odd feeling prickled along the edges of her skin, settling in her nerves. Eyes tightening, she recognized the feeling. "The wards of my safehouse have been breached. Something's wrong."

The only person who'd been granted access of the safehouse was Narcissa Malfoy.

Leaping to his feet, Harry withdrew his wand on instinct.

Hermione's coin warmed in her hand and she lifted it, Harry at her shoulder in an instant.

_CHANGE OF PLANS_

They both watched with bated breath as a string of discordant messages came through, as if in a panic.

_CAN'T GET AWAY  
_ _SUMMONS IN TEN_

_NEED TO REVEAL  
_ _HIS RAT NOW_

Hermione shared a cautious glance with Harry – she'd informed him of everything she knew of the plan.

_FOLLOW THE MAP  
_ _MANOR WARDS ARE DOWN_

_I'LL KEEP IT AS  
_ _CLEAR AS I CAN_

_NOW OR NEVER_

A thrill of sheer terror swept through Hermione as she glanced back to Harry's emerald gaze.

One last message warmed her palm.

_BE SAFE  
_ _I LOVE YOU_

Tears stung her eyes as she shifted her coin from Harry's stare, and immediately made to prepare herself to keep from dwelling on the fear threatening to overtake her.

She returned a quick missive of her own.

_I LOVE YOU  
_ _BE CAREFUL_

As Hermione glanced back at Harry, he was gazing at something on his own coin, a furrow in his brow.

"What is it?" she breathed, hands clenched into fists.

His gaze snapped back up. "I'll tell you later. Let's get ready."

* * *

Pacing his study, Draco clenched his coin tightly in one palm. He'd never reached out to any coin other than Hermione's before, but the principle of it was the same as he strung a series of hasty messages together into Potter's coin.

He didn't know if he would make it through the day, and that was something he'd already come to accept long ago – Draco had never anticipated surviving the war, regardless of how everything played out.

But Hermione… he needed her to be safe. There was no world left for him without Hermione Granger in it, and the thought of her failing to survive was more painful than he could bear.

_POTTER  
_ _KEEP HER SAFE_

_NO MATTER  
_ _WHAT HAPPENS_

_YOU NEED TO  
_ _GET HER OUT_

_PROMISE ME_

The backs of his eyes stung as he stared, unblinking, at his coin, moisture breaking at the corners of his eyes.

It felt like an eternity, his gaze snapping to his watch every few seconds. He had only minutes left before he needed to leave the study. It was strange to think that it might be his last day on earth.

But then Potter's message came through.

_I'LL GET HER OUT_

_THANKS FOR ALL  
_ _YOU'VE DONE_

_I PROMISE_

Relief tingling along his spine, Draco swiped at the tears gathered at his eyes. He rose and dressed in his robes, clutching his coin and recalling the last message Hermione had sent him to its face. Then he slipped it safely into his pocket, donned his mask, and left the room, summoning every last shred of courage he could manage.

_Merlin, let it be enough._

* * *

Draco was one of the last to arrive. Foreboding crept through his veins, an innocuous pounding at the posterior of his skull as he took his place in the inner circle. It was everything he could manage to keep his shoulders back and tall.

Never had he lifted his wand to kill, despite the many creative ways he'd come up with to fake the act.

But for Hermione – for a chance at a better world for her – there wasn't anything he wouldn't do anymore.

A hushed silence fell over the gathered crowd as Voldemort took his place, and Draco's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together as his master turned to face him.

"Draco." His name was hissed, breaking the tension. Bile churned in the pit of his stomach and he was relieved he wore a mask as his face twisted into a grimace. "Do you have news for me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco murmured, dipping his head in a bow. He ensured his Occlumency walls were secure. Turning to face Voldemort, despite the chaos he knew would ensue at the declaration, he announced, "Yaxley."

A curious tilt came to Voldemort's face as he pondered the word, his eyes tightening.

Unaware of anything other than the fact that hearing his name was bad news, Yaxley snarled, stepping forward in denial. The man was insane – everyone had watched it worsen over the years, and Draco had seen the man threaten Hermione's life too many times, as if in sport.

Remorse sparked in his stomach, but it was minimal. Not in comparison to the protective streak that reared deep within him.

Voldemort held up a hand to silence the accusing cries of the man. Draco held his posture firm as his master mused, in a soft, hissing tone, "Yaxley. How disappointing." With another wave of his hand, Yaxley's thrashing anger was stifled, his body coiled with a length of rope. "Draco – thank you for your assistance with this matter. I will give you the honours."

Despite expecting the offer, Draco felt something shatter within his chest. There would be no going back from murder, but it would be one less Death Eater with which the Order would have to contend. And he could accept the sacrifice of his own soul on those terms. With a clipped nod, he drawled, "Thank you, my Lord. You honour me."

He could feel the harsh, cruel stares of the rest land on him as he drew his wand, making his best effort at keeping his hand steady.

As chaos, fear, nausea, and apprehension rolled through him, he thought only of Hermione. Fixing his wand on the silenced and bound man, Draco allowed the words to fall from his lips for the first time ever as he released the years' worth of pent-up rage from within.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

As the man sank, so did Draco's heart. The words were bitter and repulsive on his tongue, and he rebelled against the warm wash of Dark Magic as it swept through him, enticing and enthralling.

But Draco knew better than to give in to the magic, suppressing it the best he could manage.

Silence reigned in the circle once more as Voldemort stared at his fallen soldier. Then at last he looked straight at Draco. "Very well – and there is something _else_ you are keeping from me, Draco."

His heart stopped, but he kept his expression blank under the mask, not allowing his stance to falter. "And what is that, my Lord?"

"The matter of your mother leaving the Manor, not half an hour ago," Voldemort hissed.

Draco refused to look in his father's direction at the stab of betrayal that shattered his chest. He fell silent, his eyes slipping shut and teeth grinding as his lips pressed together and he waited, knowing what was to come.

"_Crucio!"_

* * *

Hidden beneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and the pair of them ensconced within a multitude of Disillusionment and Concealing Charms, Hermione and Harry made their way from the Floo in Draco's personal study along the advised route to where Voldemort kept his office.

As Draco had promised, the hallways were nearly empty, although there had been one narrow miss when a house elf turned the corner and nearly barrelled into them.

The elf had frozen on the spot, its large eyes wide and floppy ears perked up, before it carried on.

Following the map, Harry led them through the corridors while Hermione scanned the list of wards, given they'd had almost no time to prepare when Draco's messages had come through. If they didn't act now, while Voldemort and his squadron of Death Eaters were distracted – in some other part of the Manor – they might not have another chance for a long while.

And judging by the way her wards had shimmered, Narcissa had already arrived at the safehouse. Hermione had left food in the fridge along with an unsigned note that she'd be along as soon as possible, in the event of Narcissa's arrival.

So she wasn't worried about Draco's mother for the time being. The most immediate of matters was that they locate and breach the study, and hopefully find the Horcrux, while Voldemort's attention was drawn away.

The downside was that they still didn't have any idea _what _the Horcrux was – but they were familiar enough with the feel of them after dealing with half a dozen of the horrific artefacts before.

It would be a small enough object to carry, possessed of some significance – and it would _feel_ dark, wholly and implicitly.

Two more house elves were conversing in the next corridor. With silent steps, Harry doubled them back and diverted their path to what Draco had labelled as the secondary route, along with a note that they track their steps back to the primary route as soon as possible.

"He's thorough, I'll give him that," Harry breathed, so softly Hermione had to strain to hear him, even tucked right against his side.

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, despite the dire situation in which they found themselves.

It might have felt too easy if not for the fact that Draco was working with them from the inside. But Hermione could feel the thick layers of magic emanating from the door when they arrived at the study, and she cast a few cursory spells into the oak wood of the door to be sure it wasn't going to kill them on contact.

The good thing about the situation, she mused, was that _they_ were the ones behind enemy lines. So Voldemort wouldn't have been expecting an ambush on an innocuous looking office.

Harry kept watch while Hermione ran through the list of wards Draco had already identified, casting a series of non-verbal charms to release the seals.

But still, a few remained, and some of them she didn't know. A chill crept down her spine at the feel of dark magic.

"Hurry up," Harry whispered, gazing around. "We don't have time for this."

Her palms were damp with nerves, and Hermione pressed them into the legs of her jeans before trying a few more spells. Two of the remaining wards fell away, and with a sharp exhale, she targeted the last one.

Skimming Draco's list once more, she saw a small note at the bottom where he'd suggested a potential spell for obscure wards, one that she'd entirely forgotten. Another breath of relief chased from her lungs when the lock clicked open.

With a furtive gaze each way down the corridor, they released the door and entered the room.

Almost at once, the pair of them recoiled from the feel of dark magic roiling in the air.

"Yeah, it's in here," Harry said with a frown as he shrugged out of the cloak, the skin around his eyes tightening. "Let's split up and look – it could be anything, and it could be hidden anywhere. But _be bloody careful_ – anything in here could curse and kill us."

"Right." Nodding, Hermione swept forward, wand first, as she began scouring shelves and drawers. It was odd, when the study looked as if it could have been owned by anyone, and she wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting.

An elegant, mahogany desk stood near the far wall, tall bookshelves lined the nearest wall, and a forest green sofa with clawed feet sat along another.

Casting diagnostic and searching charms as they went, the pair of them made quick work of the small office. Upon a cursory glance, there seemed to be nothing of interest or value on the bookshelves. Some ancient-looking tomes and scrolls, and some odd bits of decor.

She carried on, sweeping into an adjoining closet, but the element of dark magic was less permeating so she didn't linger before returning back to the main room.

Harry was peering around, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw as his other arm folded across his chest. "Hermione," he whispered, "come here." Sidling up alongside, she stared forward. He was gazing in the direction of the bookshelves. "Look ahead."

"There's nothing there," she mused, "only some old books and bits of junk."

"Did you check?" He asked, with a pointed stare.

Waving a hand, Hermione shook her head and fixed Harry with a look. "No, but it's just… it's books and bits of junk."

Holding Harry's stare, she frowned, a furrow dropping her brow. His stare was leading, as if expecting something to click. "But you don't know that."

"No," she whispered. "The magic of the Horcrux is deterring us from focusing on it."

"Which means," he murmured, holding her stare, "whatever it is, it's on that shelf. But the magic will push us away, so we need to do this together."

Hermione cast a look back towards the shelf, scoffing. "It's only books and –"

"Hermione," Harry hissed, and she turned back to him, startled. "Don't look at them. We need to push back against the magic of the spell or we'll keep getting turned around. One of us needs to move forward if the other is distracted. Got it?"

Swallowing, she nodded. "Got it."

Carefully, Harry's fingers gripped between hers, Hermione took a few steps towards the bookshelves. Harry slung his pack down to rest on one shoulder, shuffling around in its contents. Significance hung heavy in his stare as he drew a basilisk fang into one hand.

His gaze flickered back to the shelf. "It's nothing, Hermione. It isn't there –"

"Harry!" she snapped, forcing his attention back to hers.

It was clever, really, because if one person had entered the office alone they would have been pushed back every time they faced the shelves.

With a tight nod, he muttered, "Right." Blowing out a breath, he said, "Let's chronicle it. What do you see when you look?"

Steeling her nerves, Hermione turned to the shelves, clutching Harry's hand within hers. "Just books, Harry. And some odd bits and bobs."

"Right," Harry mused, "what sort of bits and bobs, Hermione?"

With a soft chuckle, she said, "Looks like an old skull. A decorative lamp. A miniature model of the Globe Theatre. Some scrolls and quills."

Harry's gaze burnt a hole in the side of her face. "Really, Harry, there's nothing here."

"Tell me some facts, Hermione," Harry went on, tone conversational. "You're the master of obscure facts, really. Do you know of any valuable old lamps? The Globe Theatre? Skulls?"

"This feels so flippant, Harry," Hermione went on, sharing an indulgent smile with her old friend. "I thought we were here for a reason, but – well, the Globe Theatre was where Shakespeare directed his plays." With a tilt to her head, she went on. "Obviously there is a history of old skulls being discovered, from ancient humans to the present. Maybe it's the skull of an ancestor – seems like something the Malfoys might have done." She tittered at the thought of it.

Chuckling, she glanced away from the shelf, and her heart went cold when she faced Harry again. Drawn from the thrall of the magic, she choked a garbled mass of words.

"What else," Harry urged, holding her stare. "The lamp, the skull, the miniature."

Scouring her brain, she forced herself to stay focused in the moment. "Is there anything else?"

Frowning, Harry stared at the shelf, turning back to her in an instant. "Just the books."

"Shakespeare," she whispered, anxiety mounting in her veins and pushing through her heart. "The Globe – _the skull_! Harry, the skull!"

"What?" he asked, scratching the back of his head.

"An important Muggle artefact that's missing." The words were breathed, drawn quietly from her throat. "An item that when imbued with the shattered remains of a dark soul, would be a massive affront to Muggle culture."

Pressing his lips together, Harry shook his head.

"The skull, Harry!" Tugging her hair, she fought the urge to stare at it once more, feeling a curiosity like none other drawing her back. "No one knows for sure, but it's long been thought that _William Shakespeare's_ _skull_ was stolen from his grave!"

Eyes wide, they stared at one another. Finally Harry choked out, "I guess that might be the equivalent of an artefact belonging to one of the Hogwarts founders."

She glanced back, furtive. If it actually – truly – _was_ the skull of Shakespeare… they couldn't simply _destroy_ it…

"We can't," Hermione whispered, her eyes drawn back to the shelf against her will. "We can't, Harry. That isn't it. It's just a skull, on a shelf with some odd bits and bobs…"

Forcing a smile, Harry glanced to the shelf and away, sidling a few steps closer. "You're right, Hermione. Just a shelf with some books. We've been looking in the wrong place after all."

With a huff of relief, Hermione smiled. "Oh, good. We ought to stop worrying about these silly shelves anyways."

With quick, measured glances, Harry was beside the shelf, and dropped his gaze hard to the floor. He whispered, "Hermione, I need you to look away."

"Oh, gladly," Hermione said with a chuckle. "We're wasting time, anyways, when Draco –" Her eyes widened with fright, and she reached for her coin, feeling shreds of dark, invasive magic seep away as if through her pores. "Draco's in trouble – Harry, we need to _move_ –"

But Harry was staring at her, his jaw clenched hard as he brandished a yellowed skull, a basilisk fang stabbed through one of its empty eye sockets. Startled, she clapped a hand to her mouth. "The skull, Harry!"

He echoed, "The skull." As he slipped the mangled remains into his bag, Hermione could scarcely stand to breathe, and not least of all because it was _the_ missing skull – but because with its destruction, the dark magic permeating the room had lifted.

Frantic, and wondering how much time they'd already used up, Hermione tapped a quick message into her coin, hoping Draco would be able to receive it.

_WE GOT IT_

Harry was already scouring the map, sending out a series of messages to the Order. "We've got them all here, Hermione – and he's mortal this time. It's time we put an end to this, and we're going to need back-up."

Nodding, Hermione gazed at her silent, cold coin.

Slinging his pack onto his back, Harry wrapped the pair of them in the Invisibility Cloak as they made towards the direction of the drawing room, which was where Draco had suggested Voldemort would be meeting with his Death Eaters.

Hermione couldn't help the sensation of dread pulling at her gut that the broken wards hadn't alerted Voldemort after all, when Draco suspected they would. So either he was so distracted he hadn't noticed, or it had all been a trap… or maybe Voldemort's hubris was simply beyond those sorts of precautions.

"Harry," she whispered, intending to stop him when she realized the room they were heading towards, and a violent, visceral flash of memory shot through her like terror. Bellatrix, and a knife, and _pain_ like Hermione had never known.

"We have to go," he urged, but his hand caught hers in a squeeze. "You saw what Malfoy said – it's now or never."

With a sharp nod, she pressed on, shoving the emotions back as she'd learned to do over the years of war.

As they neared, Hermione was aware of Apparition around them and people, in the alcoves, concealed behind tapestries, and she saw hints and flashes of colour – hair, clothing, faces. With a shared smile, they swept on.

Another score for Draco releasing the Anti-Apparition wards on the Manor.

From beneath the Invisibility Cloak, she could see the circle of Death Eaters and she froze, heart stopping as she searched the masks for the one she knew. But she couldn't see Draco, and fear prickled along her skin and at the edges of her mind.

Still her coin hadn't received a response, and she sucked in a quick breath. Something was wrong.

With the Order safely hidden and the pair of them invisible, no one noticed until they were in the room. Emerald eyes caught hers, and before Hermione could decipher his intentions, Harry revealed himself, leaving her alone beneath the cloak. A startled gasp was wrenched from her throat as he squared off and threw the skull to the floor.

It rolled forth with a clank, rattling and uneven with the fang still protruding from within it. A tense, thick silence settled across the room.

Eyes wide, Hermione noticed Draco's mask at last, and her heart stopped. He was on the floor some distance away – motionless in a pool of blood. Tears broke from her eyes and she shook her head, wordless, mouthing _no, no, no –_

Voldemort hissed, striding forward to meet Harry – and fury wrenched from somewhere so deep within herself that she threw the cloak from her shoulders, wand drawn, and scores of the Order materialized behind her.

With cries and shouts, the Death Eaters drew their wands, making to advance, but Voldemort raised a hand, the harsh slivers of his eyes fixed on Harry alone.

Mirth shone on his pale face, but there was something both disturbed and disturbing beneath the visage. In a high voice, he croaked, "And what is this? Harry Potter has been foolish enough to break into a meeting of my finest Death Eaters?"

There was a chorus of cruel laughter, and Hermione's gaze darted once more to Draco's unmoving form, watching for any hint of life.

"How's it feel?" Harry barked, striding a step forward. Behind him, the rest of the Order shifted along, wands fixed on the wall of black robes behind Voldemort. "To be human again, of course."

Stare faltering, Voldemort advanced until only he and Harry faced one another in the centre of the room. Hermione wasn't certain she was breathing, and she cursed Harry's recklessness in silence. But she knew if she jumped forward, it would initiate a wild sort of chaos.

A hint of feral amusement tugged at Harry's face as he lifted his wand.

With a flash of light, the room erupted.

Hermione hadn't even seen who fired the first spell, but Harry was in a duel with Voldemort, while Order members and Death Eaters charged one another. Firing a spray of curses, Hermione dived for Draco's prone form, her fingers sliding through blood as they searched for a pulse at his slick throat. She cast a shield around them both, but away from the heat of the battle, they were unnoticed.

"Draco," she whispered, drawing his mask free and dragging her fingers along the line of his cheekbone. Her heart pulsed wildly in her chest, compounding the anguish settling into her brain at his blank face, his eyes softly closed.

Relief dredged from somewhere deep within and she choked on a sob as she found a pulse, so faint she thought she might have imagined it.

All around her battle roared, and she looked up to see Harry firing a barrage of curses at Voldemort; her heart leapt in fright and she ducked simultaneously as a jet of light shot past, shattering the stone wall behind her. Protective instincts reared within her and she fired a series of spells from above Draco.

The sheer terror that raced through her at the thought of Draco being further harmed left her suspended in a combined state of shock and disbelief. To her right, battle waged with a fury she'd scarcely seen, but yet she swallowed, feeling oddly disconnected as her world lay in a pool of blood before her. She didn't even know how much time had passed.

Rising to her feet, a cold and ferocious despair forced her hand as she fired a relentless and unending string of curses at the black robes all around – but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to get him _away_, unable to defend himself as he was. It became all-encompassing, stalling her thoughts as her wand dropped and hung, useless, before her.

Her tightened gaze drifted to the side and her wand rose again with conviction – towards anyone from either side who dared approach the one she loved.

Then it happened in an instant – Harry, with his infamous disarming spell, leaving his opponent vulnerable. There was a blast of green, so bright and blinding the whole room froze and turned to watch as the force of Harry's magic was so great as to lift Voldemort from his feet, into the air. In a crumpled and broken heap, he crashed back to the ground.

Chaos vaulted through the room as spellfire raged on, coupled with a mass Disapparation – Death Eaters fleeing their fallen leader – and the Order chasing after the ones who remained.

Tears of shock stung at Hermione's eyes, adrenaline racing through her veins, and she caught Harry's gaze across the room. It wasn't possible, that after so long –

"Get him out of here!" Harry bellowed, and with a brisk nod, her eyes swimming with moisture, Hermione gathered Draco in her arms to the best of her ability and vanished.

* * *

"Hermione." Startled, she glanced up from her book, smiling at the sight of Harry peering through the doorway. There was a hesitant and appeasing sort of smile on his face. "It's been three days. Do you need anything?"

An absent smile lingered on her lips, even as she felt cold. "We're fine. Thank you for checking in, Harry."

She would have to alter the wards, when Draco awoke.

Dropping into a rickety chair by the door, Harry sighed. "We're still working on rounding up the last of them, but Kingsley's stroke of brilliance in warding the room from Disapparition when the first wave of them fled was a good one. We managed to apprehend most of them then."

Nodding, Hermione mused, "That's great news."

Sweeping a hand through his hair, Harry flashed her an exhilarated smile. "Yeah. It really is."

Her smile softened as she gazed at her oldest friend. "Harry – I'm proud of you. You did so well the other day, and in keeping focused when we were trying to destroy that Horcrux…" Glancing away, she felt a sting of colour in her cheeks.

"It was a team effort," he asserted. "You were more distracted because you stared at it longer."

With a quick nod, her gaze landed back on Draco's silent form. How she longed to hear his voice. As if sensing her distraction, Harry rose with a hint of a frown.

"Send a message if you need anything…" he said, voice low. "If he wakes."

"Thanks, Harry." Her gaze was locked on his neutral expression. "The Healers seem to think there's nothing more we can do other than to wait."

"Right."

"Thank you for coming by."

"Tell Malfoy…" Releasing a breath, Harry cracked a grin. "Tell him we need to talk. He did an awful lot for us that day, and from how it sounds, he's protected you for years. I'll need to thank him properly."

Her voice was soft. "He'll really appreciate that, Harry."

With a nod, Harry Disapparated.

Hermione returned to her book.

* * *

Never had she thought she would be able to memorize the curves of his face, until she found herself watching him at all hours of the day.

It had been six days since she'd found Draco's immobile form in a pool of his own blood, and terror had raced through her at the thought she might never see those grey eyes again. She still didn't know what had happened, and how Draco had wound up in this state. Six days had passed since Harry had taken down Lord Voldemort, and the world beyond the bedroom window felt a little brighter.

But without Draco by her side, Hermione didn't know if she would ever fully feel normal. If such a thing was even possible anymore, after so many years of being at odds with anything resembling a peaceful existence.

She laid alongside him in the bed in their flat, her face resting on his chest to feel the gentle lift and fall of his breathing, even as his body remained unresponsive.

Tears pooled on the fresh t-shirt she had carefully dressed him in for the day, and she wrapped her arms around his midsection, murmuring into his chest. "I need you to come back to me, Draco." Her shattered heart wrenched into pieces at the sound of her own words. "I need you to see this new world we've pieced together. Because, Draco… you did it. You changed how your story plays out, and life looks a lot different from here on. We don't need to hide anymore, Draco… you don't need to pretend to be something you're not any longer. Come back and see."

Sniffling, her eyes fell shut as she sought comfort and solace in the warmth of his body.

Her voice fell to a hitched whisper. "I love you, and I need you with me."

"When you put it like that…" A voice, soft and hoarse from disuse, above her. Hermione's eyes snapped open wide in shock, her mouth falling open as she leaned up to peer at Draco's face.

His eyes fluttered and pressed shut, face screwed up into a grimace.

"Draco," she breathed, gaping blankly. "You're awake."

A teasing smirk played at his lips, even as he winced. "What can I say – your words sounded too good to ignore." The humour dropped off, and he merely stared at her, heavy significance in his gaze. "It sounds like you're going to have to tell me everything."

Tears blurred the edges of her vision as his arm wrapped around her, gentle but firm, as if lacking in strength.

"I'll tell you everything later," she whispered, tucking into his hold, her lips finding his with a soft kiss. "All you need to know right now is that we won, Draco. Your mother is fine, and will be thrilled to see you. Harry is bursting at the seams to talk to you about all you did for us that day… and you're safe at home."

"Home," he mused, staring up at the roof of their small bedroom. His lips met her temple. "I suppose I am. And there's nowhere I'd rather be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story.


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